Collation and Induction of James Hunt as Rector of Bishops Waltham with Upham
Tuesday 10th June
Readings: Romans 12:1-8 and Matthew 5:13-16
I want to talk to you tonight about mission. But instead of coming at it from where we are now, I want to travel back in time to the days of the Anglo-Saxon mission. There was a church here long before the present building was begun, c 1200, but no trace of it is left. We know that the old church was a minster, a centre of mission for the area, serviced by a community of monks. And just to show that mission and education are closely connected, there was a school here as well. In these schools, young men – and in those days it was a male only business – learned to read and write, become familiar with the Latin bible, study the scriptures carefully, become versed in Christian teaching, and develop an awareness of the world about them.
To this school, shortly after 700, came a local lad whose name was Willibald. Instead of playing safe and remaining here afterwards, he got the travel bug. He set sail with his father and brother from Hamble, crossed the Channel to the River Seine, and eventually reached Rome, where his vocation was further developed and deepened. Then he spent a number of years travelling in the Eastern Mediterranean ending up in Palestine. He became one of the most travelled people of his time. In later life he had it all written up, the first known travel book written by an Anglo-Saxon. It was widely read by those who could read, in much the same way we sit down and watch a travel programme on a DVD. Returning to Rome, he was enlisted as a missionary to an area northwest of Munich, where in 742 he was made Bishop of Eichstätt. There he plied his energies, building up communities of faith, until his death over forty years later. Just imagine being a bishop for that length of time!
By any stretch of the imagination, that’s a fairly impressive C.V. – it makes me feel dull and exhausted just to think of it! Formation here in Waltham, as it was known until you got the Bishop’s Palace four hundred later; then more specialised training in Rome; followed by a grand tour, that stretched him and pushed his boundaries far further than anything else, including direct contact with Muslim communities (he was put under arrest by Saracens for a time because they thought he was a spy); and then bringing all this experience to bear on spreading the gospel in a place that was badly in need of it. There must have been a very strong streak of the adventurer about him, such as that pull to go to the Holy Land, and see the holy places. For those of us fortunate enough to have gone there with the relative ease of a modern aircraft, it is a way of confirming one’s faith in the historic fact of Jesus of Nazareth someone who really did live on this earth.
I don’t know whether James Hunt knew what I was going to speak about as I walked up the steps of this historic pulpit! A new priest coming here is bound to feel just a little bit the weight of the past, and if they’ve any sense, develop a little respect for it. But my reason for using the example of Willibald is to illustrate that sense of pilgrimage and that sense of community which lie at the heart of the gospel. However much or little we travel around the world, to travel into the hearts and minds of other people can be stretching, challenging, and emotionally quite demanding. And however much we may value the ideal of community life, it is not until we join fully in life together that we have to face ourselves and one another in all our (shall we say) rich humanity.
One of the lessons that many Christians have to learn today is illustrated by Willibald’s pilgrimage to the Holy Land – we’re not proclaiming an idea, a philosophy, something you can read about in the newspapers, as a nice option alongside other areas of self-help. Nor are we proclaiming a package deal Christianity, with everything sorted out in advance. Ours is a faith in which to grow in pilgrimage, and in community as life both disturbs and enriches our knowledge of God. I have experienced too much recently ever to be impressed by those who want to make following Christ always look easy.
A new priest catching their breath as they contemplate new responsibilities can be inspired by the sheer range of Willibald’s experiences, because with experience comes understanding. At Eichsätt, he knew his people, and was known by them. And he did this not on his own, in some heroic solo ministry, but in a community, a sure sign of that collaborative ministry which James will no doubt develop here, to bring people in, build them up, and send them out. Willibald’s secret was about travelling and about community. In our own very different circumstances, it is all too easy for ministers of all kinds – bishops included - to travel to one’s own agenda, and not hear other peoples’, and to build up a community that is no more than a ghetto of the like-minded, and not the varied groups of people about whom we read in the gospels.
Tonight’s two readings illustrate much of what I’ve been saying. Paul’s image of the ‘living sacrifice’ is about offering our lives to God, in order for him to transform us – a transfiguration of our lives, weak and fragile as they are, into Christ himself, come what may. Then in the gospel reading, near the start of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus throws us those two very vivid images, first about salt, and then about light. Salt was used primarily as a preservative, which is why in a hot climate without refrigerators it was vital not just for taste but for health. The life of faith must not be allowed to shrivel up, wither and decay – a common temptation today when so much of the rest of our lives can be reduced to the level of consumer goods, where you take what appeals, and discard everything else. And light is about clarity, being able to see clearly, as those of us who are frightened of the dark are acutely aware. It’s a new pastor’s challenge both to see that light, and also to understand the different forms of darkness that we all know, whether we are prepared to admit it or not.
James, we wish you well in this new stage in your ministry, and your growth as a disciple of Christ, both here and at Upham. As you offer yourself to your Lord tonight as a living sacrifice, may you be aware, both now and in the future, of God’s love for you and yours, preserving - like salt - all that is good and true about you, and lighting up your path in the doubtless surprising journeys that lie ahead.
+ Kenneth Portsmouth
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